Jani and the Greater Game (The Multiplicity Series Book 1) (23 page)

“I owe Jelch my life,” she murmured.

“And you saw him again, in the warehouse?”

She shook her head. “I dreamed I saw him, or I hallucinated his presence – or, who knows, by some fabulous means he showed himself to me? He told me that I would escape, and that I should head east.”

“And go to Nepal.” Anand shook his head. “But the danger, Jani-ji! The British are looking for you, and maybe even the Russians, and Nepal’s border is very well protected. You would have difficulty in crossing. Also it is a long way. Rishi Tal is fifty miles from here, and the border with Nepal is a hundred miles beyond that.”

As she thought about all these things, and considered the odds stacked against her, it was strange that she should feel such confidence and a sense of rightness. Where did this come from, this conviction that what she was doing was the only course of action she could take? And from where did she draw the strength to face the many obstacles in her path?

She shook her head. “Sometimes, Anand, you know what you must do; you know that it is right. And the odd thing is that I know my father would have wanted this, for all that he worked for the British all his life, for all that he respected and even loved those who ruled over us. I think... I think that was why he started telling me, as he lay dying, about Annapurnite. He wanted me to know the truth. And I think, Anand, that by doing what I am doing now, I will at some point learn the truth.”

She glanced up from her food, at Anand, and saw that his big brown eyes were pooled with unshed tears.

She reached out and took his hand.

He rubbed at his eyes and said, “The question is this, Jani-ji: why did Jelch give you the coin, and why does he want you venture to Nepal? What can his motives be?”

“It would help if I knew why the British, and the Russians, thought Jelch so important that they had to imprison him. And the strange thing is, Anand, that Jelch told me he came here to
help
us.”

“Help
us
? Help the Indian nation, do you mean, or the British?”

Jani frowned, thinking back to what the creature had told her. “I think he meant that he wanted to help us all, the human race in general.”

He stared at her. “Jani-ji,” he said in a small voice, “where do you think he came from?”

“I did at one point wonder if he was a yeti...”

“And now?” he asked.

She looked at him. “Now I honestly have no idea.”

They ate for a long time in silence, accompanied only by the noise drifting up from the streets far below.

“Jani-ji,” Anand asked a little while later, “what will you do tomorrow?”

She had already planned her day. “I need more clothing, and toiletries and so on. I will buy these in the morning and then think about getting to Rishi Tal. I am sure there will be a train heading there at some point.”

He held the big bottle of lemonade in both hands, poised before his lips. “But how can you be sure that the British – or the Russians – will not find you? They must be looking for you everywhere by now, and the police will be on the alert.”

She shrugged helplessly. “But what else can I do? I must get to Rishi Tal, and how else can I get there but by train? It will be a risk, yes; but I cannot walk!”

Anand tipped the lemonade and glugged. He passed her the bottle, wiping his lips on the back of his hand, and she took it and drank. The lemonade was cold and sweet, a perfect antidote to the fiery phal.

“Jani-ji,” Anand said, “I have been thinking...” His big-eyed gaze was shy as he went on, “I have been thinking that after all we have gone through together, I cannot let you set off alone.”

She stared at him, wanting suddenly to reach out and take this skinny boy’s hand. “But Anand–” she began.

“Listen to me,” he said. “I have two weeks before Mr Clockwork will be expecting me back in Delhi. He will not notice that I am missing until the end of that time.”

“But I can’t let you...” she said. “Anand, the British are after me, and the Russians – and for all I know the Chinese too! I can’t let you put yourself at risk.”

“Jani-ji, I owe my life to your father. He took me in when I had nothing. He gave me a life and an education. Thanks to him I can read and write; I can look ahead and plan great things!”

“Not if the British capture you with me!” she said – and yet, even as she spoke these words, there was a small defiant voice inside her that said
Oh, let him come with me; let him come!

“Your father told you about Annapurnite on his deathbed; he wanted you to know the truth. And I also think that this poor creature, Jelch, also wishes you to know the truth. Also,
I
want to know the truth. It makes very good sense that we travel together, and have adventures evading the British and the Russians, and learn what is destined for us in Nepal, ah-cha?”

She turned away and stared at the blurred lights of the town, choked with emotion. “But,” she said, a final token protest, “Mr Clockwork will sack you when you fail to arrive – and what about the mechanical elephant?”

He beamed at her. “Mel is coming with us!” he announced.

“But... but you said that Mel is slow. If it would take two or three weeks to get to Delhi, then think how long it would take us to reach Nepal!”

He shook his head. “But Jani-ji, I have a plan. You see, I know how to make Mel go faster.”

“You do?”

He laughed and slapped his thigh. “Oh, Jani-ji, your face is so funny when you are confused. You frown, and your thick brows are pulled down, and your lips are like a monkey’s that is eating tamarind!”

“It is you who more resembles a monkey, Anand!” she countered. “But if you wouldn’t mind explaining yourself...”

“I will explain everything in the morning when I meet you outside town, after you have bought provisions. And now it is late, and we have much to do in the morning, and we must rest.”

Her stomach was full, and after the trials of the day she was ready to sleep. She thought of her soft, deep feather bed in her father’s house in Delhi, and did not relish a night on the couch in the belly of the Mech-Man.

But Anand had a surprise in store. He led her from the rooftop and back down into the warehouse. They crossed the chamber towards the chitinous beetle-tank, and Anand opened a door in its flank. He reached inside, fumbled with something and struck a match.

“Every time I come to Dehrakesh I sleep here. It is the most comfortable bed in town!”

He lit a candle, and in its flickering light Jani made out what looked like a padded boudoir within the belly of the beetle, with a sumptuous velvet divan at one end and a control console and a seat at the other. There was even, Anand pointed out, a basin with pumped water at which to wash.

Jani did so, then curled up on the divan and was asleep within minutes.

CHAPTER

TWELVE

Das is called – The visitor Kali has mentioned? –

News of Janisha Chatterjee –

“An airship ride to Dehrakesh...”

D
URGA
D
AS SAT
in the shade of a plane tree in the grounds of his ashram, eyes closed as he contemplated his exchange with Kali the previous day. He had been feverish with excitement ever since, an excitement it had taken all his meditative powers to quell. An excited mind was a mind unprepared, as the wise man said. And he had to be prepared over the course of the next few days so that he could follow Kali’s command and act with wisdom. The goddess had said he should head east, into another country, and that other country could only be Nepal – which the British had ruled out of bounds and had shut off from the rest of the world. It was fortune indeed that Durga Das, as a venerated High Priest whose ancestors hailed from that very country, had purchased a visa at great cost just last year.

Soon he would move to ensure that Kali’s words would come to pass; he would act to secure the second tithra-kun̄jī, and then the third, and in so doing bring Kali once again to this realm. And then, as a reward for all his work, he would request that Kali assist him in ridding his land of the despicable British.

His reflections were interrupted by a young acolyte who came scurrying across from the ashram. “Baba-ji, my apologies! There is someone phoning you and saying he has a most important message and that it is vital you are talking with him!”

Das’s first impulse was to chastise the youth for the interruption, but then had second thoughts. If the ‘important message’ pertained to the tithra-kun̄jī...

“Ah-cha. Tell whoever it is that I will speak to him presently. Chalo!”

He struggled to his feet, an operation that took some considerable effort and not a little time, and, panting, trudged across to the white-walled ashram. Acolytes salaamed at his passing, and he conferred blessings as he went, all the while wondering who might wish to speak to him.

“Yes? Who is this?” he snapped into the receiver when he reached his office.

“Mr Durga Das, sahib? It is Mr Vikram speaking.”

“Vikram?” Das said querulously. “Do I know you?” The name brought no face to mind, but he knew so many people that it was hard to keep track.

“Mr Vikram,” the caller went on, unperturbed, “your contact within the Kapil Dev Chatterjee household.”

“Ah...
that
Mr Vikram!”

He had thought it wise, when learning of the Security Minister’s illness, to insinuate one of his acolytes into the dying man’s abode; he had tried on numerous other occasions, but to no avail, positions within the household being limited.

“Well, what do you want, Mr Vikram?”

“I have some very important news, sir. Very important.”

Das’s idea had been that, in having someone on the inside, he would be privy to the Raj’s political machinations – intelligence which might be of use to his Nationalist contacts. He felt a flutter of impatience. His mind was on other, higher things now – not petty internal politics.

“I
have
heard that Kapil Dev Chatterjee is dead,” he said impatiently.

“But, sir, that is not my news. It is the Chatterjee girl, sir, his daughter.”

Das interrupted. “What about her?”

“This morning I overheard her speaking with her father. I was in the same room, attending Kapil Dev Chatterjee as he lay dying. I overheard something which I think you will find very much of interest.”

“Which was, Mr Vikram? Please cease this prevarication. I am a very busy man, you know?”

“Ah... the matter is very delicate, sir, and not to be discussed over the phone. Also, there is the question of my expenses.”

“Expenses?”

“I am still awaiting the payment of my expenses, and I was hoping that you might see your way to expediting the payment when I furnish you with the information, sir.”

Das contained his anger. “Are you attempting to extort from me, Vikram?”

“Not at all, sir. But I know you will be interested in what I have to tell you. You see, sir, it concerns a creature called a Morn...”

Das’s pulse quickened. “A Morn?”

His grandfather had told him about the Morn: creatures, he reported – verily demons – whose work it was to prevent the gods’ triumphant return to Earth. He had heard rumours over the past few years that the British had a Morn in custody in London, and he had instructed his many contacts to keep an ear to the ground regarding any mention at all of these beings.